Fifth Sunday of Easter: The Empty Chair
Please Note: This homily will also be delivered at a First Communion Mass. The First Communion segments appear within brackets.
[Boys and girls,
what kind of person would hold up a sign like this?
‘Will Work for Food?”
Someone who doesn’t have a job?
Worse yet, someone who doesn’t have any food to eat.
‘Will work for food’ means they’ll do about anything
to get something to eat:
Cut your grass
Wash your car
Clean out the gutters on the porch.
Faces are sad.
Clothes are dirty.
If it’s winter, their bodies are cold.
Where do you find someone holding a sign like this?
I saw someone on a street corner just last week.
Not just “someone,” but a whole family.
and it broke my heart.
What do you think Jesus might want us to do for people in this condition?
He might want us to pull into MacDonald’s
and buy them a Big Mac and a Coke.
Why? Because he was always feeding the hungry.
But he wasn’t just concerned about empty stomachs…
he was even more concerned about empty hearts.
Do you know what he said one day after he filled the stomachs
of over 5,000 people?
Right after he multiplied seven fish and two loaves of bread
into enough food to feed 5,000 people, he said:
“I myself am the living Bread that’s come down from heaven. If anyone eats this bread, they will live forever.”
Jesus was telling them that the only way to have their empty hearts satisfied
was to know him and love him and to receive him someday
in the Sacrament of Holy Communion.
And that’s what you’re all doing here today: receiving Jesus for the first time
in the Sacrament of the Holy Eucharist.
Jesus wants us to be concerned about empty stomachs.
He also wants us to be concerned about empty hearts.
The only way to fill an empty heart
is to share the Bread of Life.
I myself am the bread of life, says Jesus, whoever eats this bread will live forever.]
I’m going to put this sign away now.
But I would like to ask a question
of the parents of our First Communicants
and any other adult here:
If you were to carry a sign
announcing what it is that you are working for,
what would it say?
This sign says,
“Will work for Food.”
What does your sign say?
If you’re stomach isn’t hungry,
what is?]
Today’s gospel actually takes place during the Last Supper.
And the passage takes us into the Mystery of the Holy Eucharist
in a very unusual way:
It points us to the Eucharist
but only after it points us to an empty chair.
That’s right.
Today’s gospel picks up
right at the place
that Judas ducks out.
He’s just left the Upper Room
and right now everyone is staring
at an empty place at the table.
A rather uncomfortable moment to say the least.
Were there any “empty chairs” at your last family gathering?
How uncomfortable was the sight of that chair?
Did is speak of anger?
Did it testify to long-standing hurt?
Was its theme a weary kind of stubbornness
or an outright betrayal?
Empty chairs at a table are hard things to deal with.
But sometimes an empty chair is no one’s fault.
A car accident or a fatal illness could also be the reason
an empty chair saddens the spirit at the gathering of your family.
If you step back and take a good look at today’s gospel,
it would seem that an empty place at the Lord’s Last Supper
has something important to teach us,
and that is this:
When those you love don’t join you at the table of the Lord,
there’s something missing,
someone very important is missing
and, even though the Lord himself is present,
the absence of someone you love saddens the spirit of the gathering.
* * *
Let me share with you a personal fear of mine.
There have been times in my life when I have made very stupid decisions
based on anger that I held close to my heart.
Because of that anger,
I have missed some wedding celebrations.
There was another time when I though my work was so important
and my professional development so demanding
that I actually chose not to attend the funeral of someone
who meant very much to me.
At the time, I told myself, my presence wouldn’t be missed.
After all, I have a very large family
and, my gosh, I’m no better than anyone else.
Surely, the event would go on without out me.
And it did.
But a place was left empty.
Not at the wedding hall.
Not at the funeral Mass.
But in my heart.
And that place remains empty to this day.
* * *
When it comes to love,
an empty seat is a sorry sight.
Eventually, we all come to realize how important it is
to show up
to take part
to share in the love.
Because, when the anger settles,
when the professional goals are achieved,
when the fever of life subsides…and love comes around,
well, its meaning and its value,
its beauty and its necessity…
begins to sink in.
And that’s when it happens.
That’s when the insight takes place:
An emptiness opens inside you and you ask yourself:
“What was I thinking? How could I have allowed something so petty
keep me away?”
* * *
Let’s go back to the gospel for just a minute
and take one last look at that empty place at the table of the Lord’s Last Supper.
As you ponder it, ask yourself,
“Did Judas do us all a favor?
Does his sudden and telling absence
have something to say about the times that I am absent
from family meals?
From family reunions?
From the family of faith
gathered here at the table of the Lord’s love
and the altar of his sacrifice?
I’ll tell you what happens.
It’s very similar to the experience of missing
a daughter’s birthday
or a nephew’s wedding
or a grandparent’s funeral.
When the love comes around
and the meaning and power and necessity of Christ’s love takes hold,
it’s not guilt that you feel, but sorrow.
Not over missing Mass,
but missing the point.
Missing the love.
[The love so evident on the faces of these children here this morning.]
Love matters.
The love Christ holds for you
matters most of all.
[Boys and girls,
what kind of person would hold up a sign like this?
‘Will Work for Food?”
Someone who doesn’t have a job?
Worse yet, someone who doesn’t have any food to eat.
‘Will work for food’ means they’ll do about anything
to get something to eat:
Cut your grass
Wash your car
Clean out the gutters on the porch.
Faces are sad.
Clothes are dirty.
If it’s winter, their bodies are cold.
Where do you find someone holding a sign like this?
I saw someone on a street corner just last week.
Not just “someone,” but a whole family.
and it broke my heart.
What do you think Jesus might want us to do for people in this condition?
He might want us to pull into MacDonald’s
and buy them a Big Mac and a Coke.
Why? Because he was always feeding the hungry.
But he wasn’t just concerned about empty stomachs…
he was even more concerned about empty hearts.
Do you know what he said one day after he filled the stomachs
of over 5,000 people?
Right after he multiplied seven fish and two loaves of bread
into enough food to feed 5,000 people, he said:
“I myself am the living Bread that’s come down from heaven. If anyone eats this bread, they will live forever.”
Jesus was telling them that the only way to have their empty hearts satisfied
was to know him and love him and to receive him someday
in the Sacrament of Holy Communion.
And that’s what you’re all doing here today: receiving Jesus for the first time
in the Sacrament of the Holy Eucharist.
Jesus wants us to be concerned about empty stomachs.
He also wants us to be concerned about empty hearts.
The only way to fill an empty heart
is to share the Bread of Life.
I myself am the bread of life, says Jesus, whoever eats this bread will live forever.]
I’m going to put this sign away now.
But I would like to ask a question
of the parents of our First Communicants
and any other adult here:
If you were to carry a sign
announcing what it is that you are working for,
what would it say?
This sign says,
“Will work for Food.”
What does your sign say?
If you’re stomach isn’t hungry,
what is?]
Today’s gospel actually takes place during the Last Supper.
And the passage takes us into the Mystery of the Holy Eucharist
in a very unusual way:
It points us to the Eucharist
but only after it points us to an empty chair.
That’s right.
Today’s gospel picks up
right at the place
that Judas ducks out.
He’s just left the Upper Room
and right now everyone is staring
at an empty place at the table.
A rather uncomfortable moment to say the least.
Were there any “empty chairs” at your last family gathering?
How uncomfortable was the sight of that chair?
Did is speak of anger?
Did it testify to long-standing hurt?
Was its theme a weary kind of stubbornness
or an outright betrayal?
Empty chairs at a table are hard things to deal with.
But sometimes an empty chair is no one’s fault.
A car accident or a fatal illness could also be the reason
an empty chair saddens the spirit at the gathering of your family.
If you step back and take a good look at today’s gospel,
it would seem that an empty place at the Lord’s Last Supper
has something important to teach us,
and that is this:
When those you love don’t join you at the table of the Lord,
there’s something missing,
someone very important is missing
and, even though the Lord himself is present,
the absence of someone you love saddens the spirit of the gathering.
* * *
Let me share with you a personal fear of mine.
There have been times in my life when I have made very stupid decisions
based on anger that I held close to my heart.
Because of that anger,
I have missed some wedding celebrations.
There was another time when I though my work was so important
and my professional development so demanding
that I actually chose not to attend the funeral of someone
who meant very much to me.
At the time, I told myself, my presence wouldn’t be missed.
After all, I have a very large family
and, my gosh, I’m no better than anyone else.
Surely, the event would go on without out me.
And it did.
But a place was left empty.
Not at the wedding hall.
Not at the funeral Mass.
But in my heart.
And that place remains empty to this day.
* * *
When it comes to love,
an empty seat is a sorry sight.
Eventually, we all come to realize how important it is
to show up
to take part
to share in the love.
Because, when the anger settles,
when the professional goals are achieved,
when the fever of life subsides…and love comes around,
well, its meaning and its value,
its beauty and its necessity…
begins to sink in.
And that’s when it happens.
That’s when the insight takes place:
An emptiness opens inside you and you ask yourself:
“What was I thinking? How could I have allowed something so petty
keep me away?”
* * *
Let’s go back to the gospel for just a minute
and take one last look at that empty place at the table of the Lord’s Last Supper.
As you ponder it, ask yourself,
“Did Judas do us all a favor?
Does his sudden and telling absence
have something to say about the times that I am absent
from family meals?
From family reunions?
From the family of faith
gathered here at the table of the Lord’s love
and the altar of his sacrifice?
I’ll tell you what happens.
It’s very similar to the experience of missing
a daughter’s birthday
or a nephew’s wedding
or a grandparent’s funeral.
When the love comes around
and the meaning and power and necessity of Christ’s love takes hold,
it’s not guilt that you feel, but sorrow.
Not over missing Mass,
but missing the point.
Missing the love.
[The love so evident on the faces of these children here this morning.]
Love matters.
The love Christ holds for you
matters most of all.
posted by BlueCollarPreacher at 7:42 PM
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